


forgiveness

by daylightfalls



Category: Fleetwood Mac (Band)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:36:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daylightfalls/pseuds/daylightfalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set during the recording of goodbye baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forgiveness

She holds herself together until the very last note, knowing that if she doesn't fuck up this take, it could very well be the vocal that ends up on the album.

But when she's done, she lets out something between a whimper and a sob and slumps over, elbows on her knees and face in her hands.

He looks around there's no one left but them; he had sent everyone home hours earlier so they could be alone for this song. “Personal stuff,” he had mumbled as an excuse. The clock reads some ungodly hour that is closer to sunrise than sunset.

"You ok?" he asks gently, and she looks up at him and that’s when he knows she's definitely not okay. She bites her bottom lip and her eyes are extra bright and beautiful, the way they always looks right before she cries.

"I'm so sorry," she says. "So sorry."

"Don't worry about it, it's okay, it's a heavy song," he replies, but it’s no consolation to her. She looks up at him, heartbreak written all over her face, and it’s then that he realizes that she’s not apologizing for getting choked up during the last take. Far be it from her to ever apologize for being emotional, anyway.

"I just don't think I ever apologized," she says, still sitting and staring at him. "For losing her."

That nearly knocks the wind out of him. He lays his guitar down and cautiously walks over to her.  He reaches out his hands to her to help her up, and she takes them, pulling herself into him. “I’m sorry,” she whispers into his chest, “I never meant to let you down. Were you ever abe forgive me?”

"Oh, _honey_ ," he says, stroking her hair, "that was never your fault. I promise. I never _ever_ blamed you for that."

She suddenly pulls away, and looks up at him. “You didn’t?”

“ _Never_.”

And with that, the dam finally breaks.

He pulls her in her tighter as she cries, stroking her hair gently. “I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying this with you all these years.”

He sits with her until she’s all cried out, and then some more. They watch the sun come up in silence, her lying in his lap and him playing with her hair.

At quarter to seven, she finally sits up. “Can I try the song one more time?” she asks.

“Are you sure you have it in you?” he asks. “You don’t have to. We’ve got a few good ones from earlier.”

She nods. “I can do it. I want to do it.”

He kisses her temple, and they return to their respective places. This time, when she sings, the pain from her voice is nearly gone. It’s sadness still, but a different kind, a moving-on kind of sadness, like writing it all down and tying it to a balloon and watching it float away as the healing begins.

Nearly three decades later, she finally forgives herself.


End file.
